Chapter Nineteen
Five Days Left
For days afterwards, I try to forget the storage room incident and get on with my version of the final scene.
But I keep being hit with waves of the memory of that kiss.
God! That kiss.
I groan into my hands.
How his green eyes lit up when he looked at my lips and everything that came afterwards felt inevitable, just as it should.
The way his hand pressed the nape of my neck, the soft skin that prickled under his touch.
How good it felt to have my fingers tangled in that hair.
But that memory doesn’t exist without everything that came afterwards.
I can’t forget how Xander shook me off and left me alone, once again.
Despite how much he’s hurt me and how much I’ve hurt him, I do what I always do when things get tough.
I block out the world and throw myself into work.
If Xander and I just can’t write together, he’s right that this is the only way to move forward.
Two endings.
Meagan chooses the best.
But I can’t imagine Meagan liking the idea when we present it to her.
It’s against her ethos.
She always says the best writer doesn’t exist, there’s only the best writers.
It’s a team effort that makes great TV, with a sprinkle of competition.
I agreed with her, until now.
Today is Monday.
We have a meeting this afternoon where we’ll present Meagan with our endings.
Maybe the fact that we’re presenting it today, rather than leaving it till the end of the week, will encourage her to give us some grace? I’m not hopeful.
I have a rough version of the scene I pitched to Xander in the café and I’m racking my brains on how to make it better.
Not just better, something I can be proud of.
This is far from it.
It just lacks something.
That energy that makes characters come to life.
The thing that Meagan has always said I’m good at, I guess.
But I feel like since the storage room incident last week, I’ve been forcing myself to write in frantic bursts, as much as I can until another Xander memory interrupts my progress and forces me back to square one.
It’s so frustrating.
I bet he isn’t agonising over me the same way I am him.
I stare at my screen, the curser taunting me as it blinks on the half-full page.
For a moment all I can hear is Xander’s cruel words.
Just forget about it… I already have.
My only solace is that he didn’t mean it.
He’s always pushed people away.
He told me that: how difficult he finds it to be close to his parents and sister.
He can’t trust anyone.
How arrogant of me to hope that I could break the cycle.
I look up to the ceiling, taking a minute to steady myself.
Enough, Yara, I tell myself. I am stronger than this and I won’t cry over any man. My phone buzzes, which snaps me out of my thoughts. I look down to see it’s a message in the girls’
group chat.
Amira: hey u okay? you haven’t replied to any of my or Maddie’s texts. we r worried about u. pls talk to us. did something happen with Xander?
I contemplate her message. Yes, I called Xander a coward, but I’ve been one too. My friends have sent me a flurry of messages over the last few days and I’ve sent them halfassed replies, just enough to let them know everything is fine and I haven’t been murdered. I’ve been so preoccupied with Xander that I’ve become a terrible friend. I know I need to explain what happened but I’m not ready for that just yet. My thumb hovers over the screen as I think about how to respond.
Me: All good. Just the final stretch before we meet with Meagan later today… speak soon xoxo
My phone buzzes again.
Amira: ok we’ll stop badgering you… for now haha. good luck 2day!! x
Before I can type out a quick thanks, Maddie sends a message in that chat.
Maddie: me and Amira were thinking drinks later? you in?
Another message comes through.
Amira: you’re not allowed to say no btw :D
I smile at their messages, grateful for the offer. Maybe I should go, even if it’s just to forget about work for a few hours…
Me: Count me in! Wish me luck girlies x
I look at the clock and realise it’s almost time to meet Meagan.
Whatever I have here, I guess it’s going to have to do.
I rush to get my copy printed.
The thought of sitting side by side with Xander, Meagan across from us as she reads, compares our work, makes my stomach feel knotted and tight.
Too late to do anything about it now.
I can only walk to her office with my head held high.
Soon, all this will be over, and I can move on to something new at last.
I find Xander waiting outside.
His piercing gaze locks with mine for just a second.
We both hover by the closed door of Meagan’s office, looking at the ground, anywhere but at each other.
You could cut the tension with a knife.
And still, my heart flutters, nervous around him.
I want to kick myself for being hopeful that he would just do something… anything to make this better.
Xander reaches for the door but his hand lingers on the handle.
He cocks his head at me and I take a good long look at him.
He looks really worse for wear, the worst I’ve ever seen him actually.
Still unfairly handsome, but there’s a hollowness to him.
His hair is messy.
The bags under his eyes really stand out.
He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.
His clothes are less attractively dishevelled than normal and more just, well, normal dishevelled.
When he’s usually so well put together, it’s strange to see him in a crinkled, shrunken shirt that doesn’t fit right with trousers that don’t match.
I blink a few times.
Maybe I was wrong and he has been struggling as much as me.
He parts his lips as if he is about to say something.
My blood hums in anticipation.
Is he going to apologise? Profess his feelings to me as if we’re in some sort of rom-com? That would be a stretch, but a girl can dream.
The beginning of a sentence escapes his throat, but he stops himself when Meagan swings open the door.
‘Yara! Xander! How are you both feeling? Come in, come in.’
Meagan ushers us inside. Her cheeriness jars with whatever exists between me and Xander. She picks up on the dissonance and her eyes flicker nervously between us.
She takes her seat and her smile immediately fades as we place two separate scripts on her desk. We both retreat into the cavernous armchairs opposite Meagan’s large desk.
‘What’s this?’
She lets out a confused laugh.
I squirm as she disdainfully fingers the two scripts, as though we’ve just dumped our leftovers from the canteen on her lap. Xander speaks for us.
‘We encountered some creative differences when approaching the ending and I thought it’d be easier this way. The scripts are eighty per cent the same. We made good headway in Wales, but we wrote the rest of it separately. I told Yara that you should pick whichever one you liked best.’
I turn to him. I press my lips together to hold back my surprise. He’s taking full responsibility. I thought he’d taken the credit for my idea but now he’s taking the fall – maybe I was too quick to judge Xander’s actions?
Meagan’s brow rises. She sighs.
‘I have to say that this is disappointing. That’s not what I expected from either of you. I wanted you to work together on this, because I think of my writers as a team. Do you know how much we have riding on this? This is the finale of our most-watched show – twenty million viewers and counting – and you’re acting like children. This isn’t some sort of game. I put my neck on the line to give you this opportunity.’
She shakes her head at us.
‘Do I have to remind you of the junior part of your job titles? I could have given this to your more experienced colleagues, but I thought you were ready. I knew how much you wanted this. I see the two of you at your desks, bouncing ideas off each other. Xander, I’ve seen how much Yara has helped you improve your characterisation, and Yara, your plotting has come on in strides since working with Xander. All that analysis the two of you do about The Wire and Bridgerton and whatever else, it’s made you so much better over the years.
‘I thought you could play to each others’
strengths, but instead you’ve succumbed to your weaknesses.’
Meagan’s words are heavy and I can feel the weight of them pressing down on me. She presses her beautifully manicured fingers into her temples, massaging them fiercely.
Xander begins to speak, but she puts her hand up to cut him off.
‘Sorry, Xander. I’m in no mood for excuses,’
she says tiredly. She pushes the two scripts to the edge of her desk.
‘Let me save us all some time. I’m not going to read either of these. I know they won’t be your best work.
‘You have until the end of Friday to figure something out. Let me make it very clear this time round, seeing as there was some confusion before. You either submit something together or don’t bother handing anything in. And if that doesn’t work, it might be tight, but I have a roster of talented, senior writers who will be able to pull something together. And that’ll be the last time I take a chance on either of you.’
Her ultimatum hangs in the air. The pressure of it threatens to suffocate me. I close my eyes and take a couple of deep breaths, swallowing back my guilty tears.
‘Glad to know that we’re all on the same page. I expect to hear from you both soon.’
With that, she stands, leaning over her desk and indicating that the meeting is over.
Xander gets up first and exits the room with his head hung low. I start to follow him, but Meagan’s voice stops me in my tracks.
‘Yara, can I have a quick word?’
I freeze. Xander turns back and gives me a fleeting but reassuring look before she shuts the door behind him.
‘You and Xander…’
she says.
‘Something’s going on, right?’
Meagan’s stern tone is gone, and now it’s gentle, coaxing.
I look sharply at her in surprise and want to bury my head in the sand. This cannot be happening.
‘I’ve watched you work together for three years. I’d have to be blind not to notice’
she says, her voice filled with knowing.
I fight to keep some sort of composure.
‘There’s nothing going on… not any more anyway.’
‘Who are you kidding? I see the way he looks at you… and you, him.’
She nods her head from side to side.
‘Look, this show is about a lot of things. But the thing that makes you so good on the team is you’ve always understood that, most of all, it’s about love. The kind of love that makes you feel alive. It’s rare. The kind of love that’s worth going to war for, literally in the case of Claim to Power.
‘You and Xander are both great writers, but brilliant TV needs a human heart. I know it was unorthodox, and I’m now wondering whether it was a mistake, but I have to admit that there’s another reason why I put you and Xander together for this finale. This is a show about love and – call me old-fashioned – I’ve always believed in that old adage that the best writers write what they know.’
She puts a hand on my shoulder and lowers her head to look at me seriously.
‘Do you understand what I mean?’
I’m struck by everything she has revealed to me. The significance of it all. I feel the walls closing in around me. I say the first thing that comes to mind, because it’s what caused this mess in the first place.
‘I know Xander came to you to try and take the credit for my idea. The romance plot.’
‘Yara, what…’
Meagan looks as confused as I feel.
My eyes prickle with tears. I will not, cannot cry here. I’ve already lost enough of her respect by handing in a shoddy script that she was wise enough not to read. I can’t stay in this office a moment longer.
‘I’m sorry, I have to go. Xander and I will have a new script on your desk on Friday.’
Before Meagan can respond, I rush out of her office and head back to mine and Xander’s station. I need answers. No more whispers and assumptions. I need to know the truth. But when I arrive, he’s already gone.